


Some Kind Of Wonderful (Three Strikes You're Out)

by NovemberBlue (Cherrypie62666)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Real World, Angst and Humor, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), But Only Has Eyes For Keith, But Really They Are Into One Another, College AU, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gay Keith (Voltron), How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, If Only He Could Stop Being An Idiot, Korean Keith (Voltron), Lance Don't Give A Shit, Lance Will Hit On Anyone, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Pretend Hatred, Sassy Keith (Voltron), Slow Build, Slow Burn, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Teasing, These boys are dorks, Very Minor Background Shallura, dorks falling in love, klance, switching POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-21 07:03:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10680165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherrypie62666/pseuds/NovemberBlue
Summary: Strike two, jerk,he thought grumpily.  Part of him really hoped they’d just gotten off on the wrong foot.  Perhaps there was a way to steer the conversation back to something less offensive, salvage the good start by wrapping up the evening with a good ending.  Yeah right.Lance gasped, somehow managing to do it rather shrilly.  He gestured to his hair, then face, then clothes.  “I did wake up like this,” he cried, throwing his arms up for emphasis.  “Christ, I realize not everyone can appear so beautiful after rolling out of bed, but cut me some slack.  I mean, basic?  That’s a little harsh, dude.”  His lower lip stuck out childishly before he muttered under his breath.  “And pumpkin spice lattes are great, but I guess you’re too good for that.”Keith snorted in response, a little too pleased that he’d managed to rattle the guy’s cage as much as he was rattled.  “Hey, you called me emo, and you dissed my books.  That’s a double low blow, be glad I let you off with a warning.”





	1. Welcome To The Club

**Author's Note:**

> Whew, this was going to be a long one shot, and then I just couldn't type with bleary eyes, and decided I had enough story to make it into a short multi-chapter.  
> Please go easy on me, I am new to this fanfic fandom, and don't really know what I'm doing!  
> I'll try, but I'm nowhere near as good at writing these dorks as other people are.  
> That's okay, I wanted to try.  
> This Pseud is used solely to keep my works separated, so I have dubbed this my "anime" fic pseud.  
> If I respond to any comments in my other names, it's cause I suck at this stuff. :D  
> Without further ado, please (hopefully at least a smidge) enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the summary. If you noticed, yeah, I thought it better fit the premise.

Keith’s roommate Shiro had a terrible habit of kicking him out of their dorm at odd hours of the night, specifically for the reason that his girlfriend’s dormmate wasn’t as ‘hospitable’ as Keith seemed to be.  He wasn’t actually hospitable, usually bordering somewhere closer to the exact opposite, truth be told; but it was either acquiesce, or be forced to listen to the awkwardly disgusting sounds the couple made whenever they made out on the bed across from him, which was hard to ignore, even with headphones on.

He, of course, decided leaving was the highly preferred choice, and the compensation that Shiro feed him on said days wasn’t all that bad, either. Free and food were some of his favorite words.

The common room in the lower area of the building was normally vacant after ten PM anyway, and the large comfy leather chairs that reclined back were far superior to the hard-backed seat he had inside their tiny shared room, so he wasn’t really complaining much over the sudden change of scenery.

The quiet hum of overhead fluorescent bulbs actually made him feel a little peaceful, so when he wasn’t catching up on homework or flitting through a novel, he’d lay back and snooze for a while, until Allura gently shook him awake on her way out, thanking him kindly for his small sacrifice.

It didn’t start off being a nightly thing, not at the beginning of the semester, but even as the sessions went from bi-weekly to almost every single day, he still didn’t complain about it.

That is, until a certain annoying, obnoxious, boisterous individual stomped his giant feet all over the little fragment of alone time he'd managed to acquire, and while it wasn’t Keith's place to tell the idiot to get the hell out of there, he still thought it almost every single time they met.  Which was often.

It wasn't always that way.  Like most things, it began with neutrality, even a dash of curiosity and intrigue. 

The first few minutes had been friendly, the guy shuffling in one evening around eleven fifteen and plopping down into one of the vacant seats across from Keith.  He hadn’t really paid him any attention, it was, after all, a community area, and that did mean the occasionally added individual.  His book was just getting to the good part, the crazy new king about to decide whether his young betrothed’s father was worthy of pardon from treasonous ideas; when a low groan pulled his attention away.

“Man, this sucks,” the stranger whined, head lolled back against the backing of the chair, chin tilted upward so Keith couldn’t even really see much of his face.  The guy was wearing night clothes, from the look of it; sweatpants and a loose fitting blue sweater that hung wide in the neckline to the point that it showed off a single tanned shoulder.

Keith shifted his position slightly, tucking his legs in a little more as he shimmied down in his seat, waiting to see if the outcry was actually directed at him, or just the inability to use internal monologue, which was a little annoying, but tolerable.  The guy didn’t seem to want to elaborate, so he returned his gaze back to the book in his hands.

“Like, ultra sucks,” he moaned, maintaining the same position; with arms resting on the provided armrests, legs splayed outward with slightly bent knee, mouth sitting agape. Cue the dramatic sigh, and this dude could rival a teenage drama queen.

Keith glanced up again over the top of the novel, wondering if this was some strange cry for attention, and whether or not he should answer the call.  Something told him ignoring it wasn’t actually a real option, so with a soft sigh, he slipped the bookmark between the pages, setting it down on his lap.  “You alright,” he called, praying the conversation would be short.

Sitting up straighter, the guy flashed a brilliant smile.  “Well, I’m glad you asked, kind sir.  Actually, no.  No, I am not.  You see my roommate, great guy, by the way, has a brand-new girlfriend.  And I’m happy for him, I really am, but now I’m in the predicament that I either have to listen to them giggle and other gross stuff, or sit out here til she leaves.  I’m sure you can guess which I picked.”

Keith chuckled at that, understanding entirely too well the cute guy's plight.  “That’s the exact same reason I’m stuck out here.  Welcome to the club.”

Blue eyes sparkled at him, the smile on his lips turning a little goofy, though still utterly endearing.  “I’m honored to become a member, then,” he murmured, giving Keith a quick once over, before drawing his gaze back up to rest on his face.  “I’m Lance. McClain.”

Keith couldn’t avoid the slight tugging of his own lips that occurred due to the other’s sultry tone.  “Keith Kogane.”

“I guess getting kicked out isn’t the worst thing to happen to me,” Lance winked, shooting him a cocky smile.  “Whatcha reading there, Keith?”

Holding up the book so Lance could view the cover, he hummed quietly.  “A Game Of Thrones.”

“Oh, like the television show?”

“Uh, not exactly,” he said, setting it back into his lap.  “The show and the books are two different entities, and I prefer the books, personally.  They did come first.  I’m actually rereading them, you forget a lot of information after years between releases.”

Lance nodded like he understood, then said quite possibly one of the worst things he could have just then.  “Yeah, I wouldn’t know, I don’t like books.  Too slow.  The show is really good though.”

His long intake of breath was equal parts shocked and scandalized, going so far as to make a little choking noise in the back of his throat.  “How can you not like books?”

“Easy, I don’t like reading.”  He shrugged casually, like his words didn’t hold the deepest of meanings to someone who was attending the college specifically to get a degree in Literature, with a minor in English.

_Strike one.  At least he’s still cute?_

Lance sat back in the chair in a lazy manner, absentmindedly drumming his fingers along the leather armrest.  He was quiet for a moment as Keith gawked at him, seemingly unaware of the look of mild horror playing out on his face.  After a moment of complete silence, he huffed a sigh, leg bouncing up and down with a nervous tic.  “Well, this is rather boring.  Mind if I like, play some music on my phone or whatever?”

“Knock yourself out,” Keith muttered, brow creasing slightly as he ran the words around and around through his mind.  How could anyone hate reading?  Did he hate having to look at signs, too?  Reading was a literal part of daily life, especially in college!

A horribly whiny sound screeched out over the phone’s little speaker, the man’s high-pitched singing voice sounding more like he was crying than belting out a song.  Keith made a displeased face but refrained from commenting on the terrible choice. Not everyone could have a good taste in music. It wasn't a crime to differ in that aspect.

Lance, on the other hand, was too curious about the reaction to let the subject pass.  “What, you don’t like this genre or something?”

“They’ve given it its own genre,” he asked incredulously.

Lance rolled his eyes before leaning forward to assess Keith in a critical manner.  “I figured someone like you would appreciate this type of music.”

Keith frowned harder.  “Someone like me?”

“Yeah,” Lance said, gesturing to his entire person.  “You know, emo or whatever.”

“What,” he yelped, eyes going wide at the implication.  Somehow, the accusation was reaching the same levels as the guy’s ‘I don’t read’ comment.  “I’m not?  What in the hell gave you that stupid idea?”

Running a hand through his short coffee colored hair, he lifted one arm up in a half-hearted shrug.  “I don’t know, you look it?”  Keith quirked his eyebrow in response, so he elaborated.  “You have black hair and pale skin.”

“I’m Korean, we all tend to.”

“Then there are your semi-tight black clothes,” Lance stated, like it was an obvious parallel.  It wasn’t.

“Black is a good color!  What do you have against the color black?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he shook his head.  “Well, all of that, and then you’re here reading or whatever.  Plus, you look a little grumpy, no offense.  I don’t know, you just look like an emo.”

 Keith kissed the back of his teeth with his tongue, feeling his anger flare for a moment.  “I apologize, not everyone enjoys dressing like a basic bitch, hashtag pumpkin spiced latte, hashtag I woke up like this.”

 _Strike two, jerk,_ he thought grumpily.  Part of him really hoped they’d just gotten off on the wrong foot.  Perhaps there was a way to steer the conversation back to something less offensive, salvage the good start by wrapping up the evening with a good ending.  Yeah right.

Lance gasped, somehow managing to do it rather shrilly.  He gestured to his hair, then face, then clothes.  “I did wake up like this,” he cried, throwing his arms up for emphasis.  “Christ, I realize not everyone can appear so beautiful after rolling out of bed, but cut me some slack.  I mean, basic?  That’s a little harsh, dude.”  His lower lip stuck out childishly before he muttered under his breath.  “And pumpkin spice lattes are great, but I guess you’re too good for that.”

Keith snorted in response, a little too pleased that he’d managed to rattle the guy’s cage as much as he was rattled.  “Hey, you called me emo, and you dissed my books.  That’s a double low blow, be glad I let you off with a warning.”

The pouty guy mulled it over for a moment, before sitting forward with a grin.  “Yeah, I guess we’re even, then.  Sorry, it’s impolite to assume things based on someone’s looks.”

“Exactly,” Keith sniffed, still slightly nursing his wounded pride.  Emo indeed.  Almost anything would have been less offensive than that. Almost. 

The grin turned into an evil smirk, curling his fist beneath his chin as his elbow propped itself on the armrest.  “With that mullet you’ve got there, you definitely look more like an 80’s grunge metal wannabe than an emo.”

Keith’s hands flew up to touch the longish pieces of hair.  “I do not have a mullet,” he shrieked.

Falling back against the seat, Lance erupted into a fit of hearty laughter, clearly pleased with himself.

It was all he could do not to find that stupid laugh adorable, especially after such a rude comment about his shaggy grow out.  Mullets definitely had much shorter pieces in the top and front. Way different than his style.  And certainly Shiro would have warned him if he had accidentally grown a mullet. He wouldn't just let something like that pass without a thought. Right?

Before he could think of a nasty retort, possibly something about how the other's laugh sounded like a mentally impaired hyena (it really, really didn’t), Allura appeared, cocking a silvery brow.  “What’s so funny,” she asked, looking from Keith’s grumpy expression, to Lance slipping off the chair while clutching his stomach as he scream-laughed, then back again.

“Nothing,” Keith muttered, crossing arms over his chest.  Stupid Lance, if he wasn’t so stupid gorgeous, he’d have struck out by now.  As it was, he teetered on the edge of the abyss.  Once you fell over, there was no coming back.

Straightening himself upright, Lance wiped tears of mirth from his eye, before sizing Allura up slowly.  “Well, hello there, beautiful.  What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?  Allow me to escort the lovely maiden safely back to her palace.”  He grinned a crooked grin, which would have been totally cute if it were directed at Keith, but it wasn’t.

_Strike three, you are so out._

Collecting his belongings, he rose to his feet.  “Watch yourself, Allura.  He’s probably a perv.  I’ll be heading up then.  See you tomorrow, most likely.”

“Bye Keith.  Sorry, again.  You’re a real dear for doing this.”  She awarded him with a hundred-watt smile, before giving a gentle wave, and sauntering off.

A small inkling of satisfaction bubbled in his stomach at her clear avoidance of even addressing Lance.  With a haughty huff, he marched away, not even bothering to say goodbye.  If he was lucky, he’d never have to deal with the jerk ever again.

Keith was not lucky.

The very next night while he typed up the essay for his English class, lost in his own interpretation of Poe’s _The Valley Of Unrest_ and what the author truly meant by the words he used, a warm exhale of air by his ear made him literally jump and squeal.  Craning his neck painfully around to his right, he groaned both internally and externally as he came face to face with a stupid, amused smirk.

“Heya there, fall out boy.  Whatcha typing up so intensely?”  He wriggled his fingers obnoxiously in the other’s face, causing Keith to growl low in his throat.

After a beat of silence, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.  “Fall out boy,” he asked, tone flat and unamused.

Lance chuckled, sauntering over to the empty chair across from him and plopping down before responding.  “Yeah, you know, cause you look like an emo kid?  It’s a fitting nickname.”

Rolling his eyes, he wondered briefly if listening to Shiro and Allura make out was actually more torturous than dealing with this moron.  It was, but only by a slight fraction of a percent.  “Alright, basic,” he drawled, adorning his own smirk when Lance pouted in response.  It was a cute sight, even if the jerk was an obnoxious tool.

Lance pulled out his phone, mumbling illegible things under his breath, mouth turned down unhappily.

Whatever it took to keep him quiet, Keith thought with a satisfied hum.  Returning eyes back to his assignment, he reread the last paragraph to better resume his previous train of thought, before fingers began clicking away on the keys, losing himself once more in the white noise of _click click click._

An equally obnoxious pop song suddenly belted out from the tiny little speaker of Lance’s phone, causing Keith to button mash along his keyboard as his brain short-circuited for an instant due to the abhorrent sound of the music.  To make matters worse, Lance began singing along, terribly off-key, wiggling in the chair as it creaked and groaned beneath him. It was terrible, both to behold and endure.

Try as he might to tune out the sound, it was nearly impossible to focus, more so when Lance decided to add interpretive dance into the mix.  Anytime Keith’s eyes would stray from the screen, even if it was only to glare, Lance would grin cheekily then proceed to become louder and more quixotic in nature.  How he could keep it up for over half an hour straight was beyond Keith, and he had to chastise himself when his mind wandered to inappropriate places because of the guy's stamina.

By the time Allura came giggling her way down the stairs, he was so completely done with the situation that he slammed his laptop closed, ignoring the both of them as he stomped off back to his dorm.  Shiro shot him a curious look, but he ignored that as well, kicking off his unlaced boots and burrowing beneath the icy cold sheets.  To emphasize his reluctance to discuss any of it, he pulled the covers over his head, glaring into the dark space beneath for so long he didn’t even know how much time passed before he fell asleep.

All of his dreams managed to have the shittiest pop soundtrack playing out on endless loops, and he wondered if strangling someone for ingraining awful music so far into the recesses of your mind that they showed up in your dreams could be called a crime of passion.  At the very least, he could plead insanity after he murdered Lance for existing.

After the same thing happened another two nights in a row, much to his steadily sleep deprived chagrin, he knew it was time for something to change.  Whether that be something with where he spent his time, or how often Shiro and Allura were allowed to occupy _his_ room, was still to be decided.

The couple was so grateful for his agreeance to their nightly kissing sessions, he felt bad uprooting them just to have a little peace.  Even if he did kick Allura out most evenings, he’d still have to deal with a lovesick Shiro, sighing loudly or giggling as the two texted gross things back and forth for half the night.  He knew from experience, which is partially why he allowed their sessions to become regular things.

Splitting them up was definitely going to have to be a worst-case scenario.  That left him no other option but to find a new place to congregate while he waited it out.

There was always the lobby in the front of their building, though the nighttime security guard stationed there was almost as annoying as Lance was, and talked loudly to himself far more often, if that were even possible.  Plus, he twirled that creepy orange mustache of his while staring at people intensely, and while Keith was ninety-nine percent sure it was just to make people feel uncomfortable, it did exactly that, so he avoided the guy if it could be helped.

He could sit in the hallway outside the door, praying that the walls weren’t too thin and that he wouldn’t be able to hear anything.  Of course, that meant his spine would probably get super stiff, his butt cheeks would be squished, and in the end, it would probably allow for even less work to be finished than dealing with stupid Lance.

The option of dragging out a chair crossed his mind, but he dismissed it as foolhardy.  Nothing compared to the comfy leather seats in the common room, and his tiny wooden chair didn’t really permit him to use his laptop very well.  Craning your neck forward to actually look at the screen was just as uncomfortable as sitting on the floor.  Why it was called a “lap” top, he wasn’t sure, because while one could use them on their laps, it was much preferred to be slouched a little while doing so.

His mind kept going back to the final solution he had, which was telling the lovebirds to find a new place to suck face.  The conversation didn’t go over so well, Allura busting out the waterworks while Shiro looked equally heartbroken at this new development.  Somewhere deep down Keith knew it was more or less for show, but the crying made him antsy, so he rescinded the suggestion, frowning hard when the two looked far too chipper for having just been 'horribly depressed.'

“If you two won’t find a new place to make out, then come up with a solution to my problem, instead.  I can’t get work done either way, but sitting out there with that idiot seems to affect my sleep.”

Allura tapped a finger to her chin in thought.  “So, the energetic boy is getting on your nerves, then?”

“Correct,” Keith nodded.

“And it’s making you not want to be there, right?”

“Also correct.”

Chewing on her lower lip, she hummed in contemplation.  After a moment of listening to the girl cluck her tongue in rapid succession, she flashed him a lovely smile.  “Well, then it’s simple.  If you can be annoyed out of the area, then he can be, too.  Find out what sends him running for the hills, and do it each time he returns, until it’s him that won’t stay.”

Shrio beamed at his girlfriend, throwing arms around her in a happy show of affection.  “Allura, you’re a genius,” he cooed, before giving Keith a thumbs up.  “See, problem solved.  You’ll have your peace and quiet back in no time, and we won’t have to feel like horrible people.”

“You won’t feel like horrible people either way.  If you did, you wouldn’t kick me out in the first place.”  He shot them both a pointed look, and they at least had the decency to look sheepish in response.  Rubbing small circles into his temples, he sighed.  “I’m not even sure that will work.  What if he’s like, annoy proof, or something?  Sure seems like it, annoying people are rarely annoyed easily.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Allura patted his arm gently.  “You’re a smart person, and a smidge evil, too.  If anyone can discern someone’s weakness to use it against them, it’s you.”

Keith smirked at that, cocking a brow.  “I’m going to pretend that was a compliment.”

“It was,” she assured.  “Now go get him, tiger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come when I'm not dying for sleep.  
> Hope it wasn't terrible. 
> 
> Comments are a great way to make sure I finish this. :)  
> And I enjoy talking to people. So hit me up.


	2. A minor setback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance seeks some advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't know this was going to switch POV, but I have this awful habit of writing fics that way, so. :)

Lance paced back and forth in front of the door, waiting for his small friend to answer.  Another pounding knock, this one speaking volumes about the levels of anxiety he was feeling at the moment, squashing that feeling back down until it was a little more bearable.  _Breathe in, breathe out.  You can do it, Lance._

When the sound of the bolt slipping out of place echoed through the hall, he almost cried out in relief.  Almost.  He still managed to obtain some semblance of self-control, even in such a chaotic state.  The brown eye blinked sleepily up at him from the crack of the open door, eyebrow lowering in annoyance before the short girl poked her head out completely.

“What the hell do you want at this hour, Lance.  Not everyone wakes up ungodly early like you do, ya know.”  Her voice was still thick with sleep, which was to be expected at seven o clock on a freaking Saturday.

Truth be told he would have still been fast asleep too, probably should be considering just how late he was up stessing, if it weren’t for the uncontrolled anxiety that rippled through his insides as he rolled around his bed half the night.  After the sun peeked its stupid happy rays through a crack in his curtains, he decided to forgo any further attempts at sleep to seek a solution to his problem.  If you could call it a problem.  It was almost definitely a problem.

“How do you change someone’s opinion of you once they’ve clearly made up their mind?”

Pidge snorted in response, opening the door in an invitation to him before shuffling inside the dark and dreary cave, throwing herself back on the bed with a soft thunk.  Newspaper articles covered up the window instead of curtains, blocking all natural light.  Her bed sat in one corner, a desk littered with multiple computers and electronics taking up the place her roommate was supposed to be, if she had one, that is.

The girl was perhaps one of the only lucky students to get her own private dorm to herself after a “mix up” in the school’s computer system placed the girl in the male building, which had strict guidelines about coed arrangements.  It was too late to switch her anywhere else, all the other dorms filling up by the time the mistake was discovered.  Not even her brother could share the space with the girl, and he was her flesh and blood.

Lance had a sneaky feeling that “mix up” was somehow due to the girl’s ability to hack into practically anything once she put her mind to it, not that she’d be forthcoming when asked outright.  Pidge preferred her privacy and stated as much whenever Hunk and Lance had asked if she wanted to get a three bedroom outside of campus.  Thus, all of them wound up in one place.

“I’m serious Pidge, I need your expert help here,” he whined at her little form as it attempted to burrow into the sheets quite unsuccessfully.

“You’re asking the wrong person,” she muttered into the mattress, then turned her head enough so her voice was legible.  “Ask Hunk, he’s the people person.  You know I’m far too socially awkward to make any friends.  Outside you two dorks, that is.”

Swiping a hand through his short hair, he let out a defeated sigh.  “Believe me, I would, but he’s so preoccupied with Shay right now it’s like he can’t think of anything else.  And they’re attached at the freaking hip, or have you not noticed that little fact?”

Pidge made an uncommitted noise in the back of her throat, before cocooning herself with the thick comforter.  “Can’t your dilemma wait until a more appropriate hour.  Say, like after noon or whatever?  I didn’t crash until well after four in the morning.  What time is it right now, anyway?”

“Like seven fifteen,” he mumbled, shuffling his feet around.

Her cry of indignation was priceless.  “My god, Lance, that’s even earlier than usual!  Christ, did _you_ even sleep any?”

Lifting one arm up in a shrug, he let it fall back down limp at his side.  “I don’t know, maybe a little?  I kind of tossed around a whole bunch.  All of Hunk’s snoring didn’t help, either.  I forgot how loud he can get.”

“You’re really torn up about this, aren’t you,” she asked, though it came out as more of a sigh than a question.  After he a beat, she dragged her noodle cocoon upright, frowning slightly.  “Fine, give me the low down, and I’ll see if I can help any.  Knowing you, the answer is you just can’t.”

“Well, there’s this guy,” he began, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck absentmindedly.

Her eyebrows shot up high on her forehead.  “Wow, that’s practically a first.  You don’t normally care much for boys, aside from the occasional flirting or drunken makeout session.”

Heaving a sigh, he plopped down onto the edge of her mattress.  “This one is… I don’t know.  He seems different.  And he’s like really pretty, in a softer way.  Kind of a little androgynous, like you.  No offense, Pidge.”

“None taken.”

Lance continued like she hadn’t spoken.  “But then he’s also still very clearly a guy, you know?  Like I wouldn’t mistake him for a girl, he’s just pretty like one.  Does that make sense?”

With a small shrug, she nodded her head.  “I think I more or less get it.  Now tell me what happened.”

Hesitating for a moment, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  “I don’t know exactly.  Like one moment it seemed like we were going to hit it off, he even gave me that ‘I approve’ look, and then out of nowhere he just shut it all down.  Then he started insulting me, so I did the most logical thing and insulted him back.  Now it’s all cold shoulders and eye rolls, and nothing I do gets his attention.  If that’s not bad enough, he completely avoided me last night!”

Pidge held her hands up to stop the flow of words leaving his mouth, growing steadily faster and more high-pitched by the second.  “Woah, woah, woah.  Back up a second.  Why did he insult you?  And how do you know he was specifically avoiding you?  And are you sure you saw approval and not just politeness?  I could see you mixing up the two.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he huffed.  “I think I know the look, Pidge, I’ve seen it enough times in my life, thanks.  And I know he was avoiding me because we discussed the fact both of us are in the same boat, and he is always in the common area every night.  Without fail, until last night.”

“Maybe he had other plans,” she offered, rather unhelpfully.

Lance rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore her naivety.  “As for why he insulted me, I’m not exactly sure.  All I did was play some music I thought he’d like, and then he criticized it, took offense over my simple explanation, then called me… basic.”  His lips turned downward at the memory.  As if his beautiful face would ever be basic.

Pidge snorted at that, patting him affectionately on the shoulder.  “You are kind of basic, Lance.”

“Excuse me,” he cried, feeling double hurt.  “I know I’m not your type, dude, but come on.  We can acknowledge my pretty face, right?”

“No, Lance,” she sighed, rolling her own eyes at his clear stupidity.  For someone who internet memed a lot, he really didn’t know slang terms.  “Basic.  Like… airhead college girls with messy buns on their heads, wearing oversized sweaters and Ugg boots to class, carrying their PSL and hashtagging every word on all of their photos.”

His mouth formed a small ‘O’ shape as realization dawned.  “So that’s why he said hashtag before pumpkin spiced latte.”

A smile bloomed across her face.  “I think I like him already,” she quipped.

Lance groaned loudly, face falling forward into his open hands.  “I totally played right into his poor opinion of me, didn’t I?  How do I fix this mess I’ve created?”

Chewing on her lip, she hummed low in her throat.  “Tell me about his reasons for calling you basic.  What did you say to him first?  And don’t play coy, we both know you say offensive crap all of the time without realizing it.”

Peeking through his fingers, a sudden wave of embarrassment washed over him.  Perhaps she was correct about that.  “Well, he didn’t like my music choice, and I said I didn’t know why, because he looked like someone who would.  I said he looked… well… emo.”

The laugh that erupted from her lips was practically a cackle.  After laughing hard at his expense, she wiped the tears from her still sleepy eyes, sighing with amusement.  “Oh, you poor, sweet idiot.  You can’t just go making assumptions about others based on their looks.  I bet you offended him.  So, you called him emo, and then he called you basic?”

Warmth flooded his cheeks.  “Not exactly.  He asked why I assumed, and I kind of told him it was because of his hair, and pale skin, and tight black clothes.  And that he looked grumpy, and that’s when he said not everyone can dress like a basic bitch.”

“Ouch dude,” she mumbled, shooting him a sympathetic look.  “And then he started getting standoffish?”

Lance was pretty sure he wanted to crawl into a hole and die in that moment.  “No, that was when I insulted him again and said his mullet made him look more like an 80’s grunge metal wannabe?”

“Oh my god, Lance.  I don’t think you _can_ recover.  Seriously, it’s no wonder he’s being cold now.  Why would you insult someone back to back like that?”

Throwing his hands up in defeat, he fell back onto the small bed.  “I don’t know, Pidge!  I didn’t mean to offend him at first, and then he was rude, so I got a little childish.  And then he implied near some hot babe that I was probably a perv, so I decided fuck it, right?  Might as well piss him off more, because he’s so fucking cute when he’s giving that stupid death glare, and ugh.  I want to take it all back, in hindsight.”

“Let me get this straight, you pissed him off not one, but multiple nights in a row?  How did you even think you could possibly recover from that?  And what did you even do to piss him off later?  I’m actually a little afraid to know, this is you we’re speaking of.”

Pouting out his lip, he glared up at the ceiling, tracing the little constellations the girl had replicated with the tiny plastic glow stars.  After a beat of silence, he sighed.  “I started calling him fall out boy because it pissed him off.  Then I blasted the worst pop songs I could think of since he clearly has a different taste in music.  Probably old emo, and he’s just afraid to admit that The Cure is really his favorite band.”

Pidge chuckled again, laying back against her headboard with a soft hum.  “You’re really screwed, Lance,” she murmured, poking him softly in the ribcage with her big toe.

Heaving a sigh, he nodded in defeat.  “Tell me about it.  If I had known his absence would make me this attention starved, I might have tried harder to be less annoying.  Even if he is adorable when he’s trying and failing to ignore me.  Or even while just quietly reading his book.  Or breathing.  Existing.  God, Pidge, why does he have to be so hot?”

“Good genes,” she quipped, and he shot her a dirty look.

“You are so unhelpful,” he mumbled, throwing an arm across his eyes dramatically.

“I know, but I never thought I’d _be_ helpful, and honestly I think your best bet would be to just stop being a moron.  Maybe if you try to get to know him he’ll stop ignoring you.  Like, find out his interests or whatever, meet him on common ground.”

“But he reads,” Lance whined, sitting upright and turning to the girl.  “You know I can’t stand books after Mrs. Duncan’s class in high school.  Fuck, all of school!  It was like a horrible chore, and now I have PTSD or whatever.”

She gave him a flat look, before kicking him off the bed.  “Whatever, I’ve tried to be of assistance to you, and now that we know you’re doomed, I’m going back to sleep.  Wake me at a more reasonable hour next time.  And don’t forget to lock it on your way out, or I’ll retaliate in the wickedest of ways.”

He didn’t question her threats, double checking the lock before shutting the door behind him.

* * *

 

Anxiety raked new claws down his insides as he finally shuffled his way toward the common room after having stayed inside his own room for so long, trying to avoid this very thing, that he was almost positive the memory of lips smacking noisily would be forever more etched onto his brain.  When it became too unbearable, he left, taking baby-sized steps one at a time.

Part of him was curious to know if Keith would be there again, while a larger part was afraid for what he’d do if he was.  Or wasn’t.  They were kind of equal in his mind at the moment.  Having him be there was definitely a little bit scarier, though not seeing him would feel almost like a failure.

Who was he kidding, everything about the situation kind of felt like one large overall failure.  There was a good chance he’d fucked up beyond repair.

As he turned the corner, the sight of that stupidly beautiful boy sitting cross-legged in the black leather chair, quietly reading what appeared to be a new book, almost made him whimper in relief.  That is, until those dark eyes that appeared a soft grey from this distance, but he knew were also flecked with violets and cobalt and something indescribable, glanced up and narrowed slightly, freezing him to the spot.

Lance tried to offer a smile, but he was pretty damn sure it came off as more of a wince.  Keith kissed the back of his teeth with his tongue, releasing a drawn-out sigh before dropping the book into his lap.  He waited patiently for Lance to do something, probably make another stupid comment, but the words choked him up, so all he could do was gawk awkwardly.

Rolling those pretty eyes, Keith returned his focus back his novel.  “What’s the matter, Hashbrown, not feeling like your typical annoying chatty self today?  Run out of your favorite latte at Starbucks?”

Frowning, Lance took his usual seat, unsure what it was he should say in response to that.  Curiosity got the better of him, so he asked the obvious question.  “Hashbrown?  Is that like, a race joke?”

Keith snorted at that, not even drawing his attention away from the page.  “No, it’s not.  Unlike you, I don’t make assumptions based on skin hue.  Hashbrown, as in hashbrown no filter.”  When Lance was quietly stumped for a moment, he flicked his gaze up.  “It’s from a TV show.  Look it up.”

Shrugging, Lance decided to do just that.  After a quick google search, he figured out the meaning.  “Oh, another hashtag comment, I get it.  Good one.  But I thought you preferred books to television?”

“I never said that, I said I prefer a certain book series over the television counterpart.  That’s completely different.  I enjoy the occasional show, like the rest of humanity.”

Lance perked up.  “Oh yeah, what kind of shows are you into?”  Perhaps Pidge was right, if he got Keith talking again they could go back to that slightly more talkative place, and then all would be right with the world once more.

Only he wasn’t counting on Keith being aggravated just by his existence.  With a cold as ice glare, he lowered the book once more, not even bothering to close the page this time.  “Are you stupid, or is it that you can’t pick up on when someone doesn’t want to speak with you?  I’m beginning to think it might be a little of both, though I’m curious to your own assessment.”

Lance’s mouth dropped open in shock, watching as the other’s face never once broke from his cold mask of indifference.  “What the hell, I’m just trying to be friendly,” he muttered, crossing arms over his chest as little pinpricks of anger bubbled up inside of him.  What was it about this dude that pushed his buttons so easily?

Clucking his tongue, Keith shook his head sadly.  “I’ll take that as an affirmative on both spectrums.  Listen closely, I don’t like to repeat myself.  I do not want to be your friend, Lance.  I thought I made that quite apparent when I ignored your childish antics.  I do not want to speak with you, look at you, listen to you, or endure you any longer.  I want quiet and peace, so you can be civilized and grant me that, or I can file a complaint against you.  Take your pick.”

White hot emotion burned his cheeks.  He was furious, sure.  Perhaps a little ashamed, a dash hurt.  The worst part of all was that Keith didn’t even look like it fazed him in the slightest.  He wasn’t aggravated or annoyed, more like apathetic.  The icy stare he gave off could have curdled milk, but it didn’t come from a place of emotion.  He meant his words, more than just in the heat of the moment.  They were permanent, as unyielding as a wall of cement.

Lance waited for a beat, taking a calming breath in before he dared to respond.  “I don’t get what your problem is.  Are you too good to speak with someone who is trying to be nice to you?”

Keith’s jaw clenched for a second, muscles of his face going taut.  “I’m looking at my problem.  _You_ are my problem.  And if I can’t get rid of you by being frank, I will do whatever is in my power to assure you never step within ten feet of me again.  Is that clear enough?  Can you wrap your simple little mind around that?”

“You’re an asshole, you know that?  Seriously, a grade A pretentious, douchy prick.  I apologize if my company isn’t to your standards, your royal highness.  I’ll try to refrain from getting my peasant all over you since you’re so much better than me.”

In hindsight, he should have just accepted defeat and walked away.  Lance was always a little too emotionally susceptible to know when it was a good time to bite down on his tongue and accept things as they were.  It usually got him in trouble, which was apparent since he’d already done it multiple times with Keith, again and again and again.

Something in his mind told him Keith was a fraction to blame, too, for egging him on right back; but he was usually the original instigator.  Not that he’d admit it out loud.  The guy was either far too amusing not to pick on (which was partially due to his wounded pride because Keith wouldn’t even look at him without psychical annoyance first), or he was being an asshat right back, which only exacerbated Lance’s loose tongue and regrettable decision making skills.  This was one of those latter instances.

Drawing in a long, shaky breath, Keith rose to his feet in one swift motion, bearing down on him before he had a chance to react.  The sound echoed across the quiet space, his head whipping to the right from the force of the impact.  Part of him felt like it was warranted, but that didn’t mean it didn’t piss him off even more.

“What the fuck was that for,” he howled, wincing as his fingers brushed lightly over the stinging skin of his cheek, eyes wide with shock.

Keith mirrored the same look back for a moment, mouth agape before he slammed it shut and shook out his fingers to ease his own sting.  “You’re a jerk,” he muttered, then spun on his heels and stomped off the same way he always did, shoulders just as tense.

Lance watched him go in quiet contemplation, feeling an inkling of regret worm down into his stomach.  Picking up his phone, he shot off a quick text to Pidge, hopeful she was willing to help.  With the confirmation dinging softly in response, he rose to his feet, shuffling away the opposite direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A look into Lance's mind.  
> Next chapter is back to Keith, and we find out why things played out how they did.
> 
> Comments are wonderful things, I really do enjoy them. :D


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